Change of Heart
by MisfiredSynapse
Summary: On Halloween, 1981, an unexpected hero rises from the darkness to finish the Dark Lord. Adult themes.


_**Unexpected Hero.**_

_On Halloween, 1981, an unexpected hero rises from the darkness to finish the Dark Lord._

Chapter the First; Book the One and Only.

Peter Pettigrew wasn't anything special. He wasn't anything brilliant. He wasn't much to look at, he wasn't admirable in the slightest, and he certainly wasn't extraordinary… you get the picture. Peter Pettigrew wasn't much- according to those who didn't know him.

To his friends, however, Peter Pettigrew was funny. He was clever. He was a good actor. He was shy to the point of being pathetic- even Remus said so- but that just made for good jokes that Peter never took offence to. He was easy-going. Sure he wasn't smart, but he wasn't thick either. He was just… Peter Pettigrew.

It wasn't until October 1981 that the World saw Peter Pettigrew in a different light. For some time since graduating Hogwarts, he'd been known as James Potter's sidekick, or Sirius Black's shadow, or Remus Lupin's friend.

It was a dark, dark, terrible night when Peter Pettigrew's true colours blazed over a field near Godric's Hollow. Not literally, of course, but the horrible sounds of his duel to the death with his "master" roused everyone nearby from their beds- including the Potters. James rushed to help, as he would always rush to help a friend, and arrived in time to see the final standoff.

"Give it up, Wormtail… which is theirs?" Voldemort hissed, his wand levelled at Peter's forehead. Peter was bleeding, trembling, weeping, but still defiant. A soft breeze blew his unkempt blonde hair from his blue eyes, which despite his pain and terror, held the Dark Lord's gaze perfectly.

"Go fuck yourself." Peter replied in a frighteningly calm voice. Voldemort shook with rage and brought his wand slashing across Peter's chest, causing blood to instantly spring from the spiders' web of cuts on his body. The blonde man cried out, his agony making his eyes water and mist over, but Peter knew that he was the last hope for Harry, James and Lily. Peter would not let them down.

"You are a _fool! _Tell me!" Voldemort shrieked, his rage making him blind to the fact that James was sneaking up behind him, armed and willing to use the Killing Curse and stop this stupid war once and for all. Revenge would be his for everything they'd lost to this pale-faced _demon. _James' plan would have worked, too, if Peter hadn't seen him at that moment and let out a gasp of shock. Voldemort whirled around, an Unforgivable on his lips, and James crumpled to the ground, screaming in agony as the Cruciatus ravaged his body.

Peter trembled to see his fearless friend so helpless before the Dark Lord, the man Peter had been calling "master" for the last three years. Voldemort would still be "master", too, had he not targeted Lily and James. Even Severus had not swayed him, and Peter instantly lost all respect for anything to do with Lord Voldemort.

"Now, James Potter, you have irked me for the first time. I hope you kissed your beautiful wife goodbye…" Voldemort taunted, increasing the intensity of his curse before leaving it off sharply, leaving James still convulsing on the ground with the remnants of pain. Slowly, quietly, Peter grabbed James' abandoned wand, feeling the worn wood scratch his dirty skin.

He was comforted by the fact that this would be his defining moment as Peter Pettigrew's Gryffindor spirit finally broke through.

"My Lord…" Peter said sharply, cockily. All his trembling, snivelling, bumbling was cast aside as Peter stood a new man, a brave, strong young man who knew he was about to die. Furiously, Voldemort turned and attempted to hex Peter as he had James, only to find himself unarmed and helpless in the next instant.

"Die." Peter whispered, advancing on his quarry who trembled and begged pathetically. Peter's ears were closed- he didn't want to hear. Not that he could have heard a thing over the pounding of the blood in his ears, the terror that forced every thought away aside from his primal instinct to kill, maim.

"Wormtail, Wormtail… I could make you rich! We could work together-"

"SHUT UP!" Peter snarled viciously, jabbing James' wand into Voldemort's chest. The once menacing figure cowered away and for the first time in Tom Riddle's pathetically worthless life, he felt fear.

"You. Bastard." Peter enunciated his words carefully, holding back his rage. He wanted that for the Killing Curse, which was crawling up his throat like bile, choking him and blinding him for the next moments which were to be the last of his life.

"Pete…" James gasped, weakened so frightfully from Voldemort's curse and unable to help himself without a wand. Peter looked up, distracted for a moment from his goal, and grinned at James. Neither noticed Voldemort's hand snaking out to grasp his wand once again, nor the subtle way he pointed it at Peter's heart.

"Always wanted to be like you." Peter said, his clear blue eyes shining with admiration for James. The next words from Peter's lips were said in unison with the Dark Lord.

There was a blinding flash of green light, from which James was forced to shield his eyes or go blind. All of Godric's Hollow was bathed in that green light, and the agonising scream from both dying men echoed in the empty streets, sending children for their parents and parents for their children.

When the light and sound faded away, James Potter gathered the courage to look for his best mate.

All he found was fragments of his wand, gripped tightly in a severed hand.

James Potter wept- _you are more than me, Pete…_

-[-]-

Waiting was the worst part of war. Waiting for a phone call- well, in Lily's case, Patronus- to tell you if your family was still alive. She had heard the screams. She had seen the distinctive green light that set her bones to chill. And she hadn't heard a word from James, although the light and screams had faded almost an hour earlier. Clutching Harry- who had slept through the entire thing- to her chest, Lily paced his bedroom. She tried to think of positives of her situation- she was alive, yes. Harry was alive. Voldemort _must _be… dead? Her heart sung at the thought. But James… where was James? Could she live in a free magical world without her guide?

"What do I do, Harry?" Lily murmured to her son, bouncing him slightly as he grunted in his sleep. The last thing she wanted or needed was for him to wake up and start screaming. The silence of the house was deafening, and any little noise had her grasping her wand and muttering prayers to herself. What if Voldemort was still alive?

If those screams had been-

"LILY!" a familiar voice shouted tearfully. With a shout of glee, Lily dropped her wand carelessly as she rushed down the stairs and launched herself- remembering Harry at the last minute- into James' arms and burying her head into his neck.

"Prat- making me- okay, God, you're alright- scared- Harry slept- screams- Voldemort?" Lily babbled incomprehensively, the last word making both James and herself shudder in horror, though James hiccoughed and sobbed bitterly, leading her slowly into their living room. Lily's heart froze. Something had happened- someone had died.

"Who?" she snapped, wrenching her arm reluctantly from James. He turned to her, haunted and drawn, exhausted, and pulled a familiar wand from his pocket. Not his own.

Peter Pettigrew's.

"Peter." Lily whispered, allowing James to take Harry from her before she dropped him. She sunk to the floor in floods of tears. James joined her momentarily, his arm around her shoulders and his tears dampening her auburn hair. That was the way Sirius and Remus found them in the morning, utterly spent from a night protecting Alice and Frank Longbottom- who had been attacked at the same time Voldemort had come for Harry.

The news of Peter's heroics was bittersweet. He saved them all by sacrificing himself.

None of the Marauders celebrated their freedom.

None of them ever spoke his name until James named his second son Peter.

Lily set up a program for war orphans- The Pettigrew Organisation.

Sirius wanted to change his name to Peter, and nearly did if Remus hadn't stopped him. Sirius settled for buying a rat and calling it "Wormtail" instead.

Remus didn't name any children after Peter. He didn't buy any rats. The only thing that Remus Lupin did for Peter Pettigrew's memory was to remember.

Twenty years later, Remus Lupin wrote Peter's story into _Hogwarts: A_ _History: The Fifth Edition._

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**Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly.**

I hope this allows people to see Peter in a different light. After all, a candle burns brightest when the night is darkest.


End file.
